


i remember the fallen

by mothicalcreatures



Series: A 19th Century Man’s Opinions on the 21st Century [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Cemetery, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Irving is a gay who can drive, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures
Summary: John Irving and Tom Hartnell visit Irving's grave in Dean Cemetery.
Relationships: Thomas Hartnell/Lt John Irving
Series: A 19th Century Man’s Opinions on the 21st Century [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540969
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	i remember the fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClockworkCourier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkCourier/gifts).



> The big main fic for this AU is still progress (and progress has been made) I just keep having these little hartving thoughts. 
> 
> Title is from "Bones in the Ocean" by The Longest Johns

“Makes you wonder who’s actually in there,” Tom said, staring up at the tombstone and squinting to read the inscription.

“We buried all our dead as best we could,” John said. “It could be anyone.”

Tom shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was cold, windy and overcast, a horrible day to be meandering about at a cemetary, but it did ensure they’d be alone. “Except those of us who are oddly still alive.”

“Have you tried reaching out to any of your family’s descendants?” John asked.

Tom shook his head. “I didn’t think they’d believe me. It seems like a lot of care has been taken to keep track of lineages and such, and I haven’t put much thought into any sort of made up family history. All of my documents are historically accurate save for the dates.”

“Mine are as well,” John said. “And of course saying, ‘I’m actually this nineteenth century dead person’ would likely land you in an institution.”

Tom scuffed at the dirt with his boot. “I’ve thought about visiting my parent’s grave, there’s an epitaph there for John and me, but it’s not really the same thing is it. I _know_ where John’s buried. I just can’t get there to see him.”

“Do you regret not taking your old magazine’s offer to write a piece on that Arctic tour?”

“No, it wouldn’t have felt right,” Tom said. “I didn’t want to write a puff piece about the Arctic as a vacation destination, even if they were offering to pay all expenses. And that was fishy too, they’d never offered to pay my travel expenses before and those Arctic tours run well over seven thousand dollars per person. My regular travel expenses were _considerably_ less than that.”

“You know if you _did_ ever want to do that, visit your brother on Beechey, I’m sure we could save up,” John said, quietly.

Tom shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to go as part of a tour. Not with people who are just there to gawk for the novelty of it. If we were to go up at all, I’d much rather go with a research team, who at least care about what they’re doing there.”

John stepped closer to Tom to wrap an arm around Tom’s waist and pull him into a sort of side hug.

Tom, in turn, leaned into John, resting his head against John’s shoulder, still looking at the grave in front of them. “At least your family felt they had closure. A body was found, given a proper burial, even if it wasn’t you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” John said. “I still mourn for the family that could have gotten closure for someone who was actually lost.”

“If we’re being technical we were still lost,” Tom pointed out. “We still never returned to our families, we’re just… here… one hundred and seventy some odd years later instead of dead in the Arctic.”

John let out a long sigh. “It’s such a difficult thing to try to and grapple with, the repercussions of our presumed deaths, when we’re not dead.”

Tom gave a hum of agreement. “Did you know there’s someone working on a biography of you?”

John frowned. “Of me? Why?”

“Dunno, they’re interested in you I suppose,” Tom said. “I stumbled across passing mention while I was searching for information about me and John online. The person who’s writing it has also done small online bio for you as well as one for my brother.”

John shook his head in disbelief. “That’s an odd thing. I know Captains Crozier and Fitzjames have biographies, but… why me, why not one of the higher ranking lieutenants? Little, Hodgson, Le Vesconte and Gore all ranked above me. Why not one of them?”

“Maybe they just found you more interesting,” Tom said. “You could ask them.”

John flushed and ducked his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll be better off not reading it, when it comes out. I’d prefer not to know what they think.”

“I think that’s fair,” Tom said, extricating one of his hands from the warmth of his pocket to rub at an itch on his nose. “Not everyone considers annotating their own biography a fun pastime.”

John chuckled. “Was that Fitzjames?”

“Yes. Captain Crozier shares your opinion on not being interested in reading his biographies.”

“Biographies, plural?”

“Apparently there’s an old one that’s out of print as well as a newer, more thorough one.”

They were silent for a few moments after that.

“Should we leave?” John asked.

“I was leaving that up to you,” Tom replied. “It’s your grave after all.”

“Then let’s leave,” John said. “It’s my grave in name only. Maybe this biography will lead people to reexamine who’s actually buried here.”

The sky decided to open up then, and John and Tom made a mad dash out of the cemetery toward their car. They were entirely soaked by the time they finally scrambled in and shut the doors behind them. John couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that bubbled up in his throat as he sat in the driver’s seat, soaked to the bone. There was nothing _really_ funny about the situation, but once he started laughing he found he couldn’t really stop and before long Tom had joined in, the ridiculous laughter at nothing apparently being contagious.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” John said, wiping at his eyes as he finally began to calm down.

Tom hiccuped. “It’s this whole situation I think. It’s inherently ridiculous, visiting your own grave, where someone else is buried, but everyone is certain that it’s you, and you’re feeling miserable about it, and then it just starts pouring rain. It feels a bit like God saying, ‘maybe stop morbing about in a cemetery when you have better things to do.’ Its like that bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, where God appears just to tell them to get on with the story.”

John laughed again. “It does a bit doesn’t it.”

He fished the keys out of his pocket before peeling it off and tossing it into the back seat. “Let’s get home then, so we can get on with life.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. A body identified as Irving by the presence of Irving's mathematics medallion near the grave, was brought back by Schwatka in 1881. As far as I know there hasn't been much, if any, real testing done to try to figure out if it was actually Irving they brought back. In this AU it's very obviously not. 
> 
> 2\. Tom worked/works as a travel journalist in this AU. This whole thing with the Arctic tour and more are discussed briefly in the big main au fic too, but this fic won't be impacted by loss of that information. This is solidly a stand alone, but would also likely be helped along by the other fic in the series. 
> 
> 3\. The upcoming Irving biography is actually the work of DJ (ClockworkCourier)! I, for one, am very excited for it.


End file.
